My little sister got her learner’s permit last week. The night she got it, she drove me to Sonic. Nervous glee oozed from her as she approached a stoplight. “Jeni,” she said, “This is my first stoplight!” I congratulated her as we passed under it. The glee returned as she went over her first speed bump.

Seeing this reminded me of the past year, the year of firsts. I had that same ooze as my sister when I walked into my first classroom, went to my first recess, the first time I walked students down the hall, when I got straight A’s for the first time, when wrote my first lesson plan, and gave my first lesson. Each time I accomplished something for the first time, I felt like I conquered the world. Every accomplishment reminded me of how far I’ve come.

Two years ago, I stared at the education degree plan and thought that there was no way I was ever going to get into the program. My GPA was atrocious, my financial aid was revoked due to bad grades, and my boss believed that going to school would affect my commitment to the company. Then, by some miracle, I got a second chance. My fiancé agreed that I needed to quit my job to pursue my dream of being a teacher. Six months later, I started my journey and never looked back.

This fall, I’m going into my senior year of college. I’ve heard that a senior year exists, but hadn’t seen any concrete evidence. As the weeks of summer pass, I have to remind myself that this really is happening. I am going to be a student teacher next year whether or not I’m ready for it.

Look out world, here I come (with training wheels)!